


"I didn't know you could sing so well"

by AbschaumNo1



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbschaumNo1/pseuds/AbschaumNo1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few people knew that Combeferre could sing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I didn't know you could sing so well"

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I was just listening to Killian Donnelly singing "I heard it through the grapevine" and thought "Hey, what if Combeferre can sing really well but no one knows?" and thus this was born...

Very few people knew that Combeferre could sing. He admittedly didn’t run around telling people, but considering how much they lived in each other’s pockets it was probably a miracle that no one had found out yet.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac knew of course; being his oldest friends he couldn’t have hid the vocal training and choir practice from them. He had quit both, lessons and choir, when he had started university (his studies did take up a lot of his time after all), but that didn’t change the fact that he was actually quite good at singing.

What even his two closest friends didn’t know was that Combeferre liked to sing along to bad pop songs on the radio when he was alone. No one knew about that.

That was until he got together with Grantaire. Even Grantaire didn’t find out for a long time, which was probably due to the novelty of this thing between them and how they danced around each other for so long. In the first months of their relationship there was just too much awkwardness between them, and too many issues that had to be worked on for Grantaire to find out about it. And then it took them still some time to fall into a comfortable enough routine to enable Grantaire’s discovery.

By the time he found out, Grantaire had pretty much moved into Combeferre’s flat. It was probably the hoodie Combeferre picked up from the floor on his way to the kitchen, or the second toothbrush that had ended up in the bathroom; or maybe it was the amount of art supplies in the living room, but somehow Combeferre realised how much their stuff had pretty much merged together. Combeferre had to admit that he really felt at home with that. The realisation made him smile and when he turned on the radio and made breakfast he didn’t even think about singing, he just did.

Combeferre was still singing when Grantaire emerged out of the bedroom, his dark-brown curls a mess on his head, eyes still heavy with sleep. Combeferre smiled at him as he put down the last items on the table and went over to Grantaire to pull him close and give him a kiss.

“Good morning, darling,” he said with a smile that Grantaire returned sleepily before he buried his head in Combeferre’s chest and mumbled a good morning in return.

He didn’t mention the singing until later when they were sitting on the couch, Combeferre reading and Grantaire snuggled up against him, occasionally reading along (not that he needed to, he could quote the book in his sleep), but mostly watching TV.

“I didn’t know you could sing so well,” he said. Combeferre put the book down on the arm rest and looked over at Grantaire.

“Many people don’t know,” he admitted, “My parents had me take lessons and participate in the choir until I moved out to study.”

“And now you’re wasting your talent on bad pop songs?”

Combeferre actually blushed at that. “I just like to sing along. It helps me to keep my head occupied.”

Grantaire was silent for a moment, but then he moved to place his head in Combeferre’s lap and smiled up at him.  “I like it.”

Combeferre wound his fingers into Grantaire’s hair and smiled back.

(Sometimes Combeferre found himself singing for Grantaire instead of just along to the radio. Sometimes it was to say sorry; sometimes it was to comfort him. Combeferre was proud to say that most of the time it was to say ‘I love you’.)

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://abschaumno1.tumblr.com).


End file.
